


The Rooms

by orphan_account



Category: Original Work
Genre: (sorta) - Freeform, Gen, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Stuck in Limbo, Time Shenanigans, liminal spaces, local eldritch being fucks with perfectly normal mortals, more at 11, teen for a bit of swearing later on, this whole damn thing is a fever dream, unedited nonsense, very short chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:40:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29288481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Five strangers are stuck in places dislodged from time.





	1. The Convenience Store

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to the dumpster fire that is this psudo. here, i post all the works that i don't feel like posting on my main account, plus some original works. this is one such original work, and some weird combination of the Backrooms, the general idea of liminal spaces, and my own whacky imagination.

Kira was sitting on the floor of aisle 3 in some convenience store. It looked vaguely like the one she had worked at in high school, only it was pristine. No random stains on the tiles, but also no money in the register. Not like she needed it, anyway. 

Because Kira had woken up here and hadn’t been able to leave.

She was the only person in here. The only living thing. Not so much as a bug was in this strange place. The doors were locked, unable to be broken by force. 

How long had it been? She wasn’t sure. Each second felt like an eternity, but each minute was a moment. The only measure of time she had was her hunger and her sleep, but even that seemed to wax and wane.

How long she had been here didn’t really matter anymore. She figured that maybe this was purgatory, or limbo. Maybe she had died. She didn’t really care. She had reconciled with the fact she wouldn’t leave a very long time ago.

She had learned the rules of this strange place over her time here. It was always nighttime outside.  _ Africa  _ by Toto was played softly over the speakers. Any trash would disappear after a time. The shelves refilled when she wasn’t looking, the power was always on, she was always alone, and there was no way to contact anybody else. 

Those were the broad things. There were other, more odd and minor things, however - the cigarettes didn’t light, but if you chewed on them they tasted a bit like bubblegum and mint. The almond milk cartons in aisle 10 were always empty. There was a small nutcracker statue in the break room that would follow you as you walked. 

As strange as this life was, Kira had gotten used to it. She would wake, wonder, snack on something and find other ways to entertain herself. This world hardly changed, so it was always predictable. Not even  _ Kira  _ changed - she hadn’t aged, nor did she gain weight. She didn’t need to shower. Her hair was still bright purple from her hair dye, and it never faded. 

With a heavy sigh, she eased herself onto the floor, staring up at the fluorescent lights on the ceiling. She closed her eyes, imagining the sun on her skin. If she ever got homesick, that helped.

She hesitated. The music had stopped.

Sitting up, she looked around for anything that might’ve changed. Everything looked the exact same. Then, the speaker crackled to life, not playing  _ Africa,  _ but a different song.

_ “Robert’s gotta quick hand,”  _ The music sang.  _ “He’ll look around the room, he won’t tell you his plan…” _

Pumped Up Kicks. Kira remembered rocking out to this song in high school, oblivious to what it was really about. She stood, stretching. She felt… excited? Why? Was it just the fact that a different song was playing?

Kira laughed to herself. Wow. She had gotten a little too comfortable with monotony.

Filled with some sort of renewed energy, she skipped around the aisles, humming along to the music. She plucked a box of Swiss Rolls from the shelf, tore it open, and bit into one of the sweets, relishing the taste.

Kira was tapping her foot along to the beat now, still munching on her snack. The memories of high school rushed back to her, cramming for tests during her work breaks, gossiping with her friends about the stupidest things.

Normally, when she began to remember things like that, a wave of homesickness would hit her, one so potent it felt like a physical blow. Not now, though. It was more of a pleasant memory. One she was fine leaving in the past.

_ “All the other kids with the pumped up kicks-” _

“You better run, better run,” Kira sang. “Outrun my gun,” Her voice was hoarse, cracking from the lack of use over her time here. 

“All the other kids with the pumped up kicks,” Kira set down the box of Swiss Rolls and spun around, mimicking the dance moves she used to know. Before long, she was belting out the rest of the lyrics and dancing through the aisles, filled more joy than she had been in ages.


	2. The Screens

Valerie stifled a yawn. She had been stuck in this room for… how long? Was it years, or just days? She lost count a long time ago. Not like time seemed to matter here.

She was stuck in a small, black room, with a minifridge to one side with a microwave on top of it, and a bed and bookshelf to the other. The books were all from her childhood, but illegible. There was some song playing in what sounded like a room over, but she could never make out the lyrics. 

What dominated the room, however, were the Screens. It was like some sort of security set-up, but with dozens of separate screens showing different places and switches that did nothing. The footage was remarkably clean, not grainy or distorted at all. The whole place felt like an odd combination of her childhood bedroom, her college dorm, and her school’s theater tech space. 

Most of the footage on the Screens was of empty locations - abandoned lots, airports, or basements, or rooms that were stripped bare. But four places were  _ not  _ empty.

One was a library, but with no books on the shelves. There was a man that wandered there, occasionally climbing onto the shelves and just sitting up there. 

Another was some sort of amusement park, but stuck in constant night with worn-down rides that didn’t work. She would see a person walking through the dirt paths, wearing some sort of dark hoodie. Every now and again she watched them crawl into the snack booth, coming out with a bag of kettle corn and cotton candy.

The other place was a hotel, with odd decor and no guests. The person in there was rarely seen, occasionally ducking in and out of rooms or munching on something from the breakfast buffet downstairs.

The final place was a convenience store. The woman there would spend hours staring up at the ceiling and snacking on whatever she found, or dozing off in odd places. 

All of them seemed to be about Valerie’s age. All of them caught in these strange, timeless places. 

It was always that last woman that captured Valerie’s interest the most. Maybe it was her vivid purple hair, or the way she occasionally drummed along to some song Valerie couldn’t hear. Maybe it was the way she would toss Skittles up in the air and try to catch them in her mouth.

Valerie turned her gaze to the purple-haired woman’s set of cameras, only to pause at what she saw.

The woman was  _ dancing. _

Full on,  _ I-don’t-care-who’s-watching  _ kind of dancing. She was twisting and twirling, dramatically singing along to some lyrics. Her entire body was moving with whatever song was playing, and it was almost mesmerizing to watch.

The song must’ve stopped, because the purple-haired woman fell to the floor, a goofy grin on her face like Valerie had never seen. She was breathing heavily, staring up at the ceiling for a moment before shoving another Swiss Roll in her mouth.

Valerie felt her lips twitch into a smile as she watched the woman. She had never seen another person in the flesh since she woke up in this room, but she felt a connection to all of these strangers. The man in the library, the person in the amusement park, the person in the hotel. They were all trapped, just like she was. They were alike in that regard.

A small  _ click  _ shook Valerie out of her thoughts. She stood suddenly, frantically glancing around before-

The door was open.

The door - the door of her room, which had always been locked - was now ajar, letting in light. Valerie paused. Her heart was in her throat. Why was it opened? What was beyond it?

Valerie didn’t really care. She lunged, swinging open the door and flinching at the bright light. It was a blank hallway, with four doors. Valerie’s brow furrowed, and she was about to emerge before something caught her eye on the floor.

A small key. Not an antique kind of key, either, a modern one. And attached to it, a tag. 

_ This key unlocks all doors. _

Valerie glanced again to the doors in the hallway. Picking up the key, she studied all the doors closely.

The first was some sort of dark lavish oak with a golden knob. The second door was wire, more of a gate than a door, darkness hidden beyond it. The third door was a plain white door, and the final door was glass, almost like a sliding door. The hallway itself was completely blank, devoid of any sort of detail, the droning of an air conditioner filling the space.

Valerie glanced back at the key in her hand. The glass sliding door had a lock, despite all reasoning that an automatic door  _ shouldn’t.  _ But Valerie didn’t really care. She slid the key into the lock, unlocking the door with ease. With barely a moment of hesitation, she stepped through. She didn’t care what was on the other side. If it was something other than that room, she would be content.

She stepped out into a convenience store, a strangely familiar one at that. Music played over the loudspeaker. It took Valerie a moment to realize where she was, but even that train of thought was halted by what was in front of her.

The purple-haired woman.


	3. The Amusement Park

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> devon's pronouns are he/they. that's because i kept switching pronouns and i decided i didn't wanna change it

“Sup, Ticket Dude,” Devon strolled by the ticket booth, giving an absent wave to the dead-eyed man that sat in the booth. He was dressed in some sort of gaudy red and white striped attire, and gave a creepy smile to Devon as they walked past, not speaking a word.

Devon didn’t know why they bothered at this point. Maybe it just felt polite. But in a world where it was always night, where the popcorn tasted stale and the cotton candy tasted like caramel, he wasn’t sure why he kept adhering to manners.

He made his way to the ferris wheel at the heart of the amusement part, staring up at the motionless ride. Then, he began to climb. 

Having always been a daredevil, Devon always felt most at home scaling a tree or a fence or… well, anything, really. Their mom always said he’d become a great stunt climber one day.

Devon scoffed, halfway up the metal wheel. Looks like that’d never happen.

They climbed until reaching the top, and perched themselves up on the top, overlooking the endless expanses. It was pitch black. No so much as a silhouette - it’s like everything outside this dingy little park was just gone.

He kicked his legs, enjoying the cool night air. His favorite black hoodie always kept him at a comfortable temperature, and if he ever  _ did  _ get cold, the hot chocolate at the ticket booth would always warm him up. Even if it was always scalding, and never seemed to cool down.

They took a deep breath. There was something calming about being up here. Stuck in this strange world, away from everything they’d ever known… it felt a bit more normal up here. Like everything  _ wasn’t  _ so topsy-turvy. 

He remembered visiting the amusement park just like this in the summertime, the annual county fair that was the most interesting thing to happen in his dreary little hometown. He remembered getting sick on the spinning teacups and squealing on the rickety rollercoasters. He remembered his older sister winning him stuffed animals bigger than he was, and shoving fistfuls of kettle corn into his mouth. 

Devon’s stomach growled. If he was stuck in this hellish limbo, why did he still have to eat?

Climbing back down, Devon meandered back over to the ticket booth, digging out a fistful of red paper tickets from his hoodie pocket. He didn’t know where the tickets came from, but they were always there. He put a fistful down on the counter of the ticket booth. 

“Whatever,” Devon said. He realized that it didn’t matter what he told the Ticket Master. He would always get the same thing.

Two minutes later, he had sugar coating his mouth and sticking to his lips from another one of the caramel-tasting cotton candies. He rummaged around in one of the many abandoned snack booths set up, getting a cup of lemonade from a machine that seemed out of order. Despite that, the lemonade was cold.

With a sigh, they sat down next to the carousel, slurping on their lemonade. Here, near the outskirts of the park, they could see the wire fence - the same wire fence that refused to bend or break. Devon had climbed dozens of those same fences in his time, but every time he started climbing this one, he inexplicably ended up back at the bottom. He had only ever seen one entrance, too - a locked wire gate that had similar strength as the fence.

In a random bout of frustration, Devon hurled his lemonade at the fence. It splattered open. He wasn’t sure what he expected.

Devon leaned against one of the horses. The paint was peeling. With a sigh, he closed his eyes, drifting off into something like sleep.


	4. The Meeting

Kira froze. That woman… had  _ opened  _ the door. The door that never budged. She looked to be about Kira’s age, with thick dark hair and almond-shaped eyes, dressed in just a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. Both of them were both frozen, staring at each other with wide eyes like deer in the headlights.

“A-Are…” Kira took half a step forward. “A-Are you real?”

The woman blinked a few times. “Y-Yeah.”

Kira took another hesitant step. Another person.  _ Another person.  _ Her very body felt like it was vibrating from the excitement. She hadn’t seen another person in so long, she hadn’t held a conversation-

Kira’s fingertips brushed against the woman’s shoulder. Kira felt tears well up in her eyes - she was  _ real.  _ She was really there.

A thousand different emotions overcame Kira at once, and she plowed into the woman at full force, wrapping her arms around her as if she was hugging an old friend. Kira started trembling - the warmth of another body, the scent of coconut shampoo, just the  _ feeling  _ of another person. Kira had forgotten what a hug felt like.

She melted into the other woman’s embrace, both of them completely overwhelmed with emotions. When Kira finally pulled back, she laughed awkwardly.

“I-I didn’t even ask you your name,” She said, breathless. 

“That’s okay!” The woman said, grinning. “It’s Valerie.”

“My name’s Kira,” Kira responded. “I-I…” She shook her head. “I-I don’t even know how I should react. Do you, uh, want a snack?”

Valerie nodded enthusiastically. “I’ve only been having frozen meals for god knows how long. Yes  _ please.” _

The two of them devoured an entire bag of Cheetos in mere minutes, exchanging knowledge about their situations and Valerie’s mysterious key. It was a frantic conversation full of ramblings and tears, both women breathless and full of energy by its end.

“I-I…” Kira let out a weak laugh. “Holy shit, this is all so much. I mean, I… I’m not even sure how much time has passed, and I, I haven’t seen another person in so long-”

“Me neither,” Valerie said. “B-But I had that, the- uh, the cameras. I could see you, and it… it was so painful because I could never talk to any of you. Just… observe from a distance.”

Kira let out a long breath, leaning against the counter. “There’s gotta be other people, right? Behind those doors?”

Valerie nodded. “Yeah.”

Kira swallowed the lump in her throat. “Could we just… stay here for a little bit longer? I…” She looked around the convenience store. “I mean, this place has been my home this whole time. I don’t know what we’ll find out there, and I…” She blinked hard. “I don’t wanna leave yet.”

“Sure,” Valerie said. “Personally I was sick and tired of my room, but yeah. Take all the time you need.”

Kira patrolled the store one last time - the empty almond milk cartons in aisle 10, the strangely pristine bathrooms, the candy aisle. When she returned to Valerie, she had a bag of gummy bears, a bottle of Fanta, and a bag of Fritos in her arms.

“I don’t know when I’m gonna have access to this much junk food ever again,” Kira said.

Valerie chuckled. “All the places have a steady supply of food and water, I think, so I’m sure there won’t be much to worry about.”

Kira’s brow furrowed and she stopped suddenly, just before the door.

Valerie nudged her shoulder. “What is it?”

“It’s weird,” Kira said. “I never really thought about it before, because I thought it was just me. But… why? What’s the purpose of all of…” She gestured around. “This?”

Valerie hummed under her breath. “I don’t really know. Maybe we’ll figure it out along the way.”

“I hope so,” Kira huffed.

With that, she glanced over her shoulder at the convenience store. As strange as her time had been there, as uncanny as the store was… she would miss it. She would miss the single ajar tile behind the counter, the bubblegum-tasting cigarettes, the single blue lightbulb in the break room. 

She turned back to the now open automatic door, not leading out a parking lot, but a plain white hallway.

She would miss never taking an opportunity like  _ this  _ more.

With that thought, she stepped through the threshold of worlds.


	5. The Hotel

Miley hated the damn hotel. She hated the carpet and its nonsensical designs. She hated the shade of paint on the walls. She hated the fluorescent lights that hummed and buzzed constantly. She hated the burnt pancakes on the continental breakfast table. 

And more than anything, even the crushing loneliness, she hated the Man Behind The Counter.

She had begun calling him the Receptionist, out of a lack for anything else to call him and the fact he was behind the receptionist’s desk. She could never get a good look at his face, even while staring dead into his eyes. It creeped her out.

Why did she hate him? Even she wasn’t quite sure. Maybe it was just something simple to take her emotions out on. Maybe it was because he looked a bit like her father.

He stood there, silent and watching. She didn’t know what kind of twisted creature he was - he never moved, never blinked, and it felt like Miley was always being watched, even while she should truly be alone. The only space she felt any sort of privacy were the hotel’s rooms.

She was in one of those rooms right now - Room 302 if she recalled correctly. Not like she could tell the difference. All the rooms were exactly the same. She was sprawled out on the small twin bed, staring up at the ceiling and letting her thoughts drift. There was music playing. What kind of hotel played music? 

She growled under her breath. Like so many things in this hellscape, it was just out of her senses. She couldn’t make out the lyrics, or any sort of melody, but she knew it was there. 

This whole place put her on edge. Memories she couldn’t remember, things she had wanted to forget. She always had horrible memory, but it was like everything got worse when she arrived here. Eventually, she began moving again, wandering the halls like some sort of ghost.

She found her way back to the main lobby. There was the continental breakfast, like always. And the Receptionist. She didn’t even try to look at him, and instead grabbed a burnt pancake with her bare hands and shoved it in her mouth.

It tasted metallic. She smelled something like booze. It made her sick.

Why this hotel? She felt like she remembered it from somewhere. Another one of those childhood memories that slipped out of her reach. Another thing her childhood brain had blocked out.

She blinked a few times, the world suddenly tilting on its axis. She groaned weakly, stumbling and trying to keep upright. The smell of alcohol was growing stronger. Why was she shaking?

A single firm hand on her shoulder got her attention. The world eventually focused back into view, and the Receptionist was standing over her, that normal blank look replaced with something almost like concern.

“Jesus-!” Miley smacked away their hand, leaning on the table. “Don’t- Don’t fucking touch me.”

“You are in distress,” They said. Miley had never heard them speak before - their voice was monotone, almost robotic in its cadence. “You require rest.”

“I’m fine!” Miley snapped. “Go back to your desk and stalk me, or whatever the fuck you do.” Her brain was a fog, on the verge of a breakdown.

The Receptionist blinked, completely ignoring her harsh words. “You will damage your body and mind if you continue to endure this stress.” They said. “You require sleep.”

Sleep. Miley hadn’t had a single moment of good sleep in the entire time she been here. Any ‘rest’ she found was plagued with nightmares she couldn’t remember. 

“I wish,” Miley growled. “Can’t sleep in this place for shit.”

The Receptionist tilted their head. “Alcohol helps mortals sleep.”

“Fuck no!” Miley said. “I’m not drinking that shit.” The mere thought of any sort of alcohol put her on edge.  _ And did they just call me a mortal? _

“Then take this,” The Receptionist said, handing Miley a small keycard. “Find Room number 124. You will find good rest in that room.”

Miley blinked, and suddenly the Receptionist was back behind their desk, unmoving and unblinking like always. Had she imagined that? Was she  _ truly  _ beginning to lose it in this hellhole?

She looked back down at the card in her hands. That, at least, seemed to be real.

It didn’t take long to locate Room 124. She opened it up using the card, and was greeted with a grand suite - something out of a fancy, 5-star hotel. Miley didn’t even begin to question it. This place ran on strange rules. Instead, she obeyed the sudden wave of drowsiness that fell over her, collapsing into the bed and - strangely enough - finding herself in a peaceful, dreamless sleep.


	6. Travel

“Which door do you want to go in?” Valerie asked. Kira was staring intently at the doors in the blank hallway, eyes narrowed.

“Well, you’ve seen the other people,” Kira said. “What do you think?”

Valerie bit the inside of her lip. “I think the wooden door must lead to the library. The wire gate probably leads to the amusement park, meaning the white door must lead to the hotel.”

Kira nodded. “The hotel doesn’t seem that bad. Wanna head there first?”

Valerie shrugged. “It really doesn’t matter to me.”

Kira reached for the doorknob, stopping halfway there. Valerie raised an eyebrow.

“Everything okay?” She asked.

“Yeah,” Kira said. “I just… can’t stop thinking about it. What’s the purpose of this place? Why are the five of us all stuck here? Is there something special about us?”

Valerie hummed under her breath. “Like I said, I don’t really know.  _ I  _ keep wondering why I had the room with all the screens and was able to see you guys.”

“That’s another thing,” Kira said, looking to Valerie. “What on earth do an amusement park, a hotel, a library, and a convenience store have in common? And what do any of the five of  _ us  _ have in common?”

Valerie’s eyes darted back to the hotel’s door. “I don’t know. I can only hope we find out once we find the others.”

Kira’s shoulders slumped. “You’re right. It just… feels too odd.” She shook the thought of her head. “But screw all of that right now. I bet those other people are as lonely as we are. Let’s go.”


	7. The Library

Markus came to appreciate the library. It reminded him of the one that his Mom used to work at - at least, it would, if all the shelves weren’t empty like the whole place had been cleaned out. There were always the sounds of a thunderstorm outside, but Markus could never see if it was actually raining - there wasn’t a single window or even a door in this whole place.

He was on the only functional computer in the library right now - of course, it didn’t have anything useful like an email or any way to connect to the outside world, but it had Solitaire and Mine Sweeper on it. Markus had become very, _very_ good at both.

When Markus would inevitably get bored, he began to wander. The library seemed to have a peculiar relationship with physics - the bookshelves, massive and towering in their own right, seemed to always be shifting. Sometimes he’d climb on top of them, surveying the endless maze.

When he found himself in the Kid’s Corner, and would bury himself in one of the bean bags and take a nap, or he’d play around with the wooden toy cars with peeling paint. Other times, he’d suddenly be in front of a small table with fruit snacks, little packets of pretzels, and tiny plastic water bottles, reminding him to ‘treat the books with care and avoid getting food and drinks on them’. 

Rarely, he’d find himself at the front desk, where the figure he just called the Librarian was there. The Librarian never seemed to move or blink - she wasn’t human, Markus knew that much. The thing that always caught his eye were the tortoiseshell, cat-eye glasses she wore, the same ones that the librarian at his school used to wear.

Then, not speaking a word, the Librarian would hand him a pile of books. They were everything from mystery novels to children’s picture books to epic fantasies. And Markus would plow through them all, eventually return them, and start the cycle anew. 

The strangest thing about the library was that it seemed to know Markus. If he wanted to play Solitaire, he found himself at the computers. If he felt like reading, he’d be at the front desk. If he was tired, the Kid’s Corner would suddenly be in front of him, and if he was hungry, he’d be at the Snack Table.

It was a comfortable, if not bizarre, life he had grown accustomed to. 

At the very least, he had time to think. Time to daydream. That had always been his thing - zoning out and peacefully wandering in his own thoughts. He thought that if this was what death was like, it wasn’t so bad.


End file.
